


John, I'm Only Dancing

by daoniesidhe



Series: The Black Mailbox Stories [3]
Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV)
Genre: Black Mailbox Universe, Humor, M/M, Making Up, PWP, Really Bad Cooks, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoniesidhe/pseuds/daoniesidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Langly gets sauced. Byers gets steamed. Langly makes coffee. Byers cooks. And Frohike ends up in hot water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John, I'm Only Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> The title's a David Bowie song. Other music mostly provided by Gilbert and Sullivan. This is a prequel, of sorts, to Weekend in the Heartland, and is set likewise in my Black Mailbox universe. And yes, I do know what we saw in "Tango". I just don't care. You can pretend Langly's taken lessons since, if it makes you feel better.

Frohike poured himself a mug of coffee. From the look of the dish rack, Byers had already left, early even for him. The oldest Gunman sighed quietly, even though it'd take an alien invasion to wake Langly at this hour of the morning. The boys were still fighting, he figured.

He wasn't, of course, supposed to know they were fighting. Short of having spent the last four days in a coma, though, he couldn't have missed it. It wasn't that they were bickering; they weren't. It was the coldness in the air whenever they were in the same room, and the painfully obvious attempts at politeness.

He settled in to check his email, absently taking a sip of his coffee. The noise he made would probably have woken the dead. It did bring Langly running, in any event.

"Jesus, Mel, you havin' a heart attack?"

Frohike mopped at his monitor with a sleeve and tried to regain the use of his tongue as he glared at his roommate. "You made the coffee."

Langly glowered. "So?" he demanded.

"So I thought Byers made it, and I drank some. Look, we all agreed you don't make coffee without adult supervision. What's it going to take, a restraining order?"

"Fuck you, Frohike." Langly stalked indignantly back to his room.

Frohike shrugged and went to dump out the coffee and make more. He probably could have been more tactful, but Langly's coffee was enough to leave Miss Congeniality swearing and reaching for a gun. He shuddered and spat into the sink, trying to get rid of the taste. Langly could do things to innocent coffee beans that would make them fit for paving roads.

He waited until he heard Langly's door slam and slipped in front of Byers' computer. He figured he had about ten minutes to crack Byers' latest journal code. He'd been prepared to let them work it out on their own, but dear God, Langly's coffee called for desperate measures.

Seven minutes later he had what he needed, and twelve minutes later he had a plan.

Half an hour after that, Langly, still sulking, slammed out. Frohike finished dressing and headed out himself.

**

HQ was empty when Byers returned later that afternoon, save for the quiet hum of the computers. He was relieved. The last few days had been nerve-wracking, the tension between himself and Langly thick enough to choke on. This time, though, Byers wasn't going to apologize first. He usually did, even when it wasn't his fault, and it always drove him crazy. This time, he was going to show a little backbone. This time, he wasn't going to cave in for the sake of peace.

This time, he thought, walking to his room, he was going to be firm. This time, Langly was going to have to be the one to apologize.

He grabbed a couple of books he needed and turned around—and there it was. Sitting in a beer bottle on his dresser, a single white rose. Byers was touched. No card, but that hardly mattered. Langly wasn't too good with admitting fault, he knew that. And he knew the rose was as close as the younger man would come to apologizing. And it really was special, sweet.

He picked up the rose and went into the kitchen. He left it on the table while he checked the cupboards and the fridge and made a mental list. A quick email, and then he was off to the market.

Less than an hour later, Byers returned home with two large grocery bags and started unpacking them, smiling to himself.

Into the living area, and he picked out a CD, some Haydn piano concertos. He was humming quite happily as he started cooking. Dessert first, it'd need a while to chill. Mmm… Cherries and chocolate, perfect. He set the cherry syrup on to boil, and whipped the cream. There was a bounce in his step as he blended the syrup and the chocolate, and folded in the cream, and finally the cherries. He spooned the mousse into a couple of stemmed glasses and set them in the fridge to chill.

Then he started on the rice and the chicken. He didn't usually cook like this, but with the ice of the last few days thawing, he found himself in a very good mood. Byers was determined to show that he could forgive as gracefully as he apologized. He washed his hands and changed the CD for another, checking the time again as he did so.

He decided he had time for a shower while the chicken simmered in the sherry sauce.

He sang Gilbert and Sullivan in the shower, enjoying the chance to do so without being taunted by his roommates. Frohike in particular had been merciless over what had eventually come to be known as "The Pitti-Sing Incident".

Dressed and spiffy, back down the hallway to the kitchen, where he added the asparagus to the rice and checked the chicken. He was making sure the mousse had set properly when he heard the door locks. He looked up, grinning, as Langly appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Something smells good."

Their eyes met and Byers felt the heat begin to creep up his spine. He smiled. "Thank you." He ignored the smug look. He could afford to be gracious. For once he'd been firm. Oh, but he was glad the fight was over. The way the younger man lounged there in the doorway, mmm….

He let his eyes track down Langly's body before looking back up.

Langly grinned. "So we're pals again."

"Always," Byers assured him. "Find some plates, it's almost done."

Langly sauntered over to the cupboards while Byers admired the view of his backside. As he set the table, he briefly touched the rose and smiled. "Listen, John. I shouldn't have…"

"It's all right," Byers said. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have been jealous."

"Well, no. You know I wouldn't hurt you."

"It was just the way you kept touching…"

"Let's not do this again, okay?" Langly tugged absently at his long hair. "I'm sorry, you're sorry, we're both a couple of jerks, and we'll both try harder."

Byers found himself laughing. "Fair enough."

Langly pulled himself off the table and started walking around the kitchen, restless in his relief. Byers watched him, the little half-steps, the way his fingers tapped at the air, the slightly bobbing head, all the frenetic little gestures. He had a sudden vision of the other man as a pigeon and had to smother the laughter that threatened to bubble out of him.

"You're burning it."

"Oh, sorry." Byers turned his attention a bit guiltily to dinner, trying to hide his grin.

Langly stepped up behind him and put his arms around him, resting his chin on Byers' shoulder. "I'm glad we're not fighting anymore," he said softly.

Byers turned his face for a brief kiss. "Me too. I can think of a lot of better ways to spend our time than fighting."

Langly grinned. "I can think of a lot of better ways to spend our time than dinner."

Byers turned the burners off. "Can you?"

"Oh yeah." Langly's long fingers moved over his lover's back, sending shivers through him. "I'm not really hungry right now."

"I am."

Disappointment flashed across Langly's face for the briefest of moments and then Byers laughed at him. He turned around and covered the pans and then turned back to face Langly. The younger man raised an eyebrow, puzzled "Dinner can wait," Byers said, still laughing softly. He put his arms around Langly. "God, I hate fighting," he whispered into Langly's ear.

Langly pressed kisses down his neck and into the hollow of his collarbone. "Making up can be kind of fun, though."

Byers wanted to say something about how codependent it was to settle their arguments that way, but then Langly did something to his earlobe that dropped his IQ into double digits, and he decided not to bother with the lecture. Besides, the argument was already settled. Or something. He couldn't quite remember. "Do that again," he pleaded.

A chuckle from Langly, and tongue and teeth and warm breath and he braced himself against the oven behind him. A few moments for it to register through the haze of lust.

"Uh, Ri. Can we take this somewhere else? I'm going to get burned here."

Langly muttered soothing but highly irrelevant things into his ear. Byers interrupted him. "No, I mean seriously… The stove is still pretty warm."

"Oh, shit, John. Sorry." Langly jerked him away and spun him, pulling up his jacket and shirt, running concerned hands lightly over his back.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I'm not actually burned. I just said it was getting hot."

Langly snorted. Byers laughed. "You know what I meant."

"Maybe we should run some cold water on you, just in case," Langly snickered.

Byers laughed again. "For God's sake. Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm fine." He leaned into Langly's hands. "But you could probably keep doing that if you wanted to."

Langly kept one hand on Byers' back and moved around to face him before putting his other arm around him again. He pulled Byers close and put his chin back on the older man's shoulder. The low hum of computers was loud in the silence of the moment.

Byers sighed. "I'm sorry I got mad."

"It's okay, John. We both screwed up." He hesitated. "I don't understand why you got upset, though. You know you're my guy."

Byers could feel Langly's suppressed laugh. He wondered if he'd been overreacting after all. "Yeah, I know. I just… worry. The way you were looking at her…"

"We were just dancing. She wanted to dance, and you didn't, that's all."

"I know. I know. But she was _so_ beautiful," John said wistfully.

"Was she? I didn't notice."

Byers pulled back abruptly. "You liar."

Langly laughed. "Okay, she was hot. But her girlfriend could probably kick my ass eight times in five minutes."

"Her…?"

"Yeah, John. Straight chicks line up around the block to dance with guys like me," he teased. "Of _course_ her girlfriend. For such a smart guy, you can really be an idiot sometimes."

Byers shaded pink, going red when Langly added, "It's a good thing you got your looks, baby."

He glared at Langly. "You're an asshole."

"Sometimes." Laughing.

Byers sighed and leaned back against him. "Okay, okay. The joke's on me, I suppose."

"Y'know, if you'd dance with me, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere."

"I don't dance. I can't dance, Ri. You know that."

Langly's hands still on his back, under his shirt. "No," Langly breathed into his ear. "What I know is that you _say_ you can't dance."

"You have to trust me on this one."

"Mm. Don't think so, Johnny. You've got some moves on you…"

Byers laughed. "That has to be the worst line you've ever used on me."

Langly held on. "Well, there's nothing to worry about, right?"

"Hmm?" What the other man was doing to his neck was extremely distracting.

Langly paused long enough to say, "I probably couldn't pick up a straight chick with a line like that. And here you are, worried about the gay ones."

Byers' laugh turned into a gasp as Langly's hands moved lower. He pressed Langly's head against his neck, tangling his fingers gently in the blond hair.

"You know I love you, John." The words were muffled against his skin. "Why do you worry?"

Byers shivered, not sure why. "It… It was how you looked at her. And she was so beautiful…"

Langly bit him. "Ow! What was that for?" He tried to pull away, but Langly stopped him and held him nose to nose.

"Do you know the way I look at you?" His smile was mocking, but his eyes said something much different, and Byers could only nod mutely.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Byers blushed and tried to look away. Langly put a hand on his chin and pulled his head up, holding the blue eyes with his. "You don't know, do you. Let me show you."

Langly held him so tightly it ached, and stole his breath with a kiss that went on and on, washing away all John's doubts.

"Forget about her. I danced with her, but you're the one I came home with."

Byers was surprised into laughter. "Big deal. You live with me. All your stuff's here."

Langly relaxed his grasp and grinned. "I live with Fro, too. But I didn't spend last night wishing I was in his bed."

Byers raised his eyebrows. "I—" he stopped abruptly. "I haven't been sleeping so well either," he admitted. "No one was elbowing me all night, or stealing the covers, or snoring…"

The younger man was still grinning. "Hard to imagine how you could sleep without that. Me, you know. No beard tickling my neck, nobody laying on my hair when I tried to roll over, nobody snoring…"

Byers sighed and leaned into him. Langly pulled him close again and nibbled at his ear, muttering down his neck between kisses. "You've got nothing to worry about, y'know? You're the sexiest guy I know, Johnny."

Between the words and the stubble, Byers found himself laughing again. Eventually the tremors of his laughter got through to Langly, who pushed him back enough to look at him curiously.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Really. It's just…" Byers laughed some more. "Sexy?"

"Totally sexy," Langly confirmed. "You want me to prove it?"

Byers couldn't stop laughing. "If you think you can."

Langly gave it his best shot. By the time he pulled away again, Byers was convinced. Also stunned, gasping for air, and nearly limp in the other man's arms. He wasn't laughing anymore, either. He needed all his concentration just to breathe.

Langly leaned in and whispered in his ear, "See? You can dance, Johnny. You just need… the right partner." John blinked and realized they were swaying together gently.

He laughed softly. "This isn't dancing. This is just you trying to cop a feel."

Langly snorted. "You want me to… dip you?"

Byers broke into appalled laughter once again. "Do you get these lines out of a book?"

"No," Langly stopped nuzzling his ear long enough to say. "I found a site for total losers who always have to seduce their nerdy lovers."

Byers smacked him on the shoulder. "Nerdy?"

Langly just laughed. "Well, there's only room in this relationship for one geek. Besides, I've been working at this for the better part of a half hour, and you're still wearing that damned tie."

"So your intentions here involve getting it off me?"

Langly snickered. "I'm not going to touch that one, John. It's just too easy."

Byers pulled away and pouted briefly, until Langly grabbed him by the tie and drew him close again. "You're gonna make me work for this, aren't you."

He chuckled. "You're always a lot more fun when I tease you for a while."

"That's pretty cold-blooded."

John pressed himself against Langly and held Langly's free hand to his own chest. "Cold-blooded?"

Langly grinned. "Okay, you're right. Definitely not cold-blooded. Definitely hot."

John laughed some more and made a face. "It's going to be puns all night, isn't it."

"No. I got some better ideas." The younger man slipped Byers' jacket off his shoulders and broke off another kiss to ask, "Who cooks in a suit anyway?"

Byers' hand came up and held Langly's mouth to his neck again. "A nerd," he managed absently.

Langly's muffled voice said, "Maybe. But a sexy nerd."

Byers chuckled some more. "If I argue, will you try to convince me again?"

Langly laughed, sending shivers through Byers' body. "Don't argue. I'll try it anyway." He gave it his undivided attention for a couple of minutes, until Byers finally grabbed his arm.

"Bedroom," he said, voice hoarse. "Now."

"Bedroom," Langly agreed, a little desperately. By the time they made it down the hallway, Langly had mostly undressed Byers, clothes scattered along the floor behind them. He fumbled with the tie, clumsy with impatience.

"That's my favorite tie, Ri," Byers said reproachfully, rescuing it.

"Fuck it. I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you a dozen new ones. I just want you naked, now." He pushed Byers against the wall and kissed him deeply. "Right now. Naked, on your knees."

Byers drew in a sharp breath. "Good idea." He didn't resist as Langly pulled him into his bedroom. Pushed him to the floor. He unbuttoned Langly's jeans. Reached in and stroked slowly.

"Oh, God," Langly groaned, and leaned heavily against the wall, knees weak.

There was suddenly too much—much too much—fabric in John's way. "Careful, Johnny." Langly gasped as Byers tugged at his clothes. "Those are my favorite jeans."

"I'll buy you a new pair," Byers replied distractedly. "A dozen. Later. Right now, you're overdressed."

Langly laughed a little and pulled his shirt over his head, kicked sneakers and jeans and boxers off. "Better?"

Byers didn't bother to answer. He licked his way down Langly's belly, along his cock, bracing an arm across the younger man's stomach when he started to slide down the wall. "Oh, God," Langly whispered, almost a prayer. He buried his hands in the thick dark hair. "Fuck, John…" he half sighed. "Ohh…" Byers took him in and reduced him to incoherence within moments, left him mumbling unfinished profanities and moaning his lover's name.

Byers felt him begin to tense and pulled away. Neither was sure whose moan was more desperate. Langly braced himself, panting, writhing, aching, against the wall while Byers held his hips steady. When he finally stopped struggling and looked down, John's face was flushed, his hair mussed, blue eyes sparkling.

Eventually Langly calmed enough for words, slipping to his knees next to his lover. "You are gorgeous, John. So fucking sexy. I can hardly even believe you're mine. You have nothing—nothing—to be jealous of, Johnny. Believe me."

Byers blushed and looked away again. He was absolutely adorable, and there wasn't anything in the world Langly wanted more at that moment than to kiss him. He pulled John's head toward him and they kissed like teenagers: with eager, sloppy, enthusiasm, barely remembering to breathe.

Langly broke away gasping. "What do you want, John?" he begged.

John smiled and he looked like a saint. Their eyes met, and Langly swallowed, waiting. John reached up and gently removed Langly's glasses, pulled the long hair forward over his shoulders. He rested his head on Langly's bare chest, beard against long locks, and sighed. The last few days had been hell. "I want… to be yours, Ri. Please. Please."

Langly grinned faintly. "You got it, gorgeous." He stretched himself across John's body, watching and feeling John sprawl naked along the floor under him. The slide of skin against skin made them both moan softly. Langly worked his way up to John's throat with lips and tongue, feeling his breath hitch slightly and biting harder as John rolled his head encouragingly to the side.

One hand moved almost too slowly between them, down and down and found John's cock. The other groped blindly for his jeans, and he latched his mouth onto John's and kissed him for all he was worth.

John broke the kiss with a muffled shout and a full-body shudder. "Jesus, Ri! Where did that come from?"

Langly laughed breathlessly and shifted his finger inside his lover. "What, that?"

John whimpered, then stifled it and tried to keep his voice casual. "What is with you and that sneak attack thing?"

Langly laughed wickedly and moved his hands again—both hands this time—shredding John's nonchalant façade. John's own hands scrabbled at the floor as he let out a groan of raw pleasure. Blond hair brushed his face and made him shiver. "Oh, God… please…"

Langly's lips moved to within millimeters of his own, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the contact he craved. Langly laughed and pulled back, leaving John to curse softly.

"I thought you wanted to tease me for a while," he grinned, and leaned in again to smother John's retort. Anything he might have been going to say was forgotten under Langly's demanding onslaught, mouth and hands and heat and pressure.

"Johnny—" A sudden growl at his ear. "You wanna take this to bed?"

"What?" John blinked in confusion.

"Bed."

John, abruptly yanked back to reality, glared at him. "I swear I'll kill you if you try to get up now."

Langly laughed. "Forget I said anything," he muttered into John's hair as he renewed his assault.

"Already there," John managed. "Don't stop again. Please."

"I won't."

Sliding into John was like coming home. Langly almost couldn't stand it. He stopped moving completely, already too close to the edge again. "John, John…" he moaned. "You don't know how much I've missed you…"

The noise John made was not quite laughter. "Oh, God." He pulled himself closer and buried his face in Langly's neck. "Yeah, I do… I think I do…" His hands moved along Langly's ribs, across his back, over the powerful muscles in his shoulders, through the soft hair, trying to touch his lover everywhere at once. He wrapped his legs around Langly and shivered as the younger man tensed, gathered himself, and thrust.

It seemed like it'd been forever… He cried out wordlessly, again and again as Langly fucked him harder, faster, giving into their mutual need. John pushed himself against Langly's belly, mindlessly seeking as much contact as he could find. The heat gathered along his spine and he threw his head back, thrusting uncontrollably against Langly's burning, sweat-slicked skin. He came with a sharp cry, and Langly was right there with him, sobbing John's name and collapsing onto him.

Afterwards, curled together sated and drifting, John heard Langly laugh. "What?" he asked, sleepily.

"Just thinking," Langly said, the laughter still in his voice. "Nobody's ever given me flowers before."

"Me either," Byers said, before his brain caught up. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, fully alert now.

"The rose," Langly explained, surprised. "Nobody's ever done that for me before.

"I'm going to reformat his hard drive," Byers snarled.

"Huh?"

"I didn't get you that rose."

"You didn't?"

"No. It was on my dresser."

Langly rolled over to face him. "Frohike."

Byers grunted. "Frohike."

"I should kick his ass."

"This calls for something much worse," Byers said suddenly, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Worse than an ass-kicking?"

"From you, it's just not that much of a threat."

"Are you saying I couldn't?"

"It's not really your style," Byers advised him. "Sorry."

Langly tried sulking.

"Don't get me wrong, Ri. There are a lot of things you're particularly good at, many of them involving asses," Byers said dryly as Langly snickered. "But all of them are far too enjoyable to be considered revenge."

"Yeah?" Langly's hands moved across Byers' body with sureness. "Like this one?"

The older man swatted at him. "Don't distract me when I'm scheming."

He grinned. "Scheme away. I'll wait."

"Let's send Scully the poems he wrote about her."

Langly choked, torn between horror and laughter. "Now that's scheming."

Byers favored him with an evil smile. "I get a lot of practice."

"Hey," Langly said anxiously. "You're not still mad at _me_ , are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"C'mon, Johnny. I'm sorry, you know that."

That earned him a reassuring peck on the cheek. "I know. I'm sorry, too. I'm not mad anymore."

Langly sighed, relieved. "Oh, man. I'm glad."

"We have to present a united front against Elfboy, after all," Byers reminded him.

Laughter. "Hey, I've got a better idea."

Byers shot him a sideways look. "You're not going to distract me again, are you?"

"Maybe later. I've got an idea how to really fix Frohike."

"Worse than the poems?"

"You tell me." Langly elaborated for a couple of minutes.

Byers smirked and suggested modifications. "He'll rue the day he messed with us."

"I bet it's been a long time since he had a good day-rueing."

John chuckled and then glanced at him. "Were we really that obvious?"

Langly shifted, uncomfortable. "Well… I made coffee this morning. You'd already left," he explained hurriedly.

"Ah." A world of comprehension in the single syllable. "You put Red-Hots in it again, didn't you."

"Man, you really think I'm a barbarian," was Langly's hurt reply.

"Oh, sure. We all remember the last time you made coffee," his lover accused. "But, it probably still isn't enough of an excuse, even if you did."

"I didn't," Langly said indignantly. "Red-Hots go in Jolt Hot Breakfasts. I used Licorice Jelly Bellys."

Byers laughed. "My mistake. Come on. Let's go make him regret it."

"Okay. Then we can come back and apologize to each other some more."

More laughter. "You're hopeless."

"Hopeless?"

"Completely. Get dressed. We've got work to do."

**

Frohike let himself in at eight the next morning, making more noise than was strictly necessary. He clumped tiredly upstairs and experienced his customary small wash of relief that the boys weren't actually having sex on his desk, the couch, the kitchen table. He liked, on the whole, to assume they never had gotten lucky, so to speak, where he ate his Lucky Charms, but he suspected Langly could talk Byers into fucking on a Ferris Wheel, and he was never going to ask.

They were, in fact, sharing breakfast, which Frohike assumed meant Byers had cooked, and things were back to normal. He congratulated himself on the success of his ploy and pretended to ignore the fact that the fight, which he'd pretended to ignore in the first place, was over. They greeted him cheerfully enough, but their attention was really on each other. Frohike headed off to bed, glad that things had worked out, and even gladder that Byers had made coffee.

His good mood lasted until late that evening, when he found out what they'd done to his video collection.


End file.
